San Diego Diary
by Viskey HeroMouse
Summary: Hannibal checks out a new client, and decides to take the case. But Face is not very happy with that decision, because he does not like this new client. Not. At. All.
1. Chapter 1

_This is slightly AU_

 _WARNING: This is from before I learned how to stick to one POV, so there's a bit of a jumble in this. I tried to work out all the kinks, but sometimes I found that to correct the POV I'd have to sacrifice too much of the story as it is, so I decided against correcting. I hope you'll like it anyway.  
_

* * *

 **Friday, 5** **th**

Hannibal wished he could scratch under the moustache, the thing itched. There was something wrong with the glue. But he couldn't run the risk of scratching it off, because he was in disguise and had to stay in disguise. He was here to meet a potential client, Tamara Hurl. Hannibal did not believe this woman to be an MP-informer, since Tenny, a colleague from the studio, had more or less arranged the contact.

But one never knew, they'd been tricked before.

Completely in character, Hannibal let out a loud belch, causing a young couple to quicken their pace a bit as they passed by. He wiped his mouth with a dirty sleeve, snorted and then groped for the brown paper-bag that contained a white bottle with some some liquid. It was supposed to be some kind of cheap alcohol but was indeed watered down apple juice.

Tamara Hurl was late, Hannibal noticed, checking the time on the big clock a couple of feet down the pier.

Hannibal took a good swallow from his bottle, allowing himself to get lost in thought. He thought back to the day Tenny – Tennyson, actually, and what a name to give to a child! – had told his good old buddy Johnny Smith about that woman he knew. A relative from his wife's side, or his ex-wife's or his other ex-wife's side, Hannibal forgot. Anyway, according to Tenny that woman was in serious trouble, like really serious trouble. He'd want to help her, but did not know how.

"There's somebody who might know how," Hannibal had thrown in, most casually.

"Yeah, who?"

"The A-Team, ever heard of them?" Hannibal had answered.

"Who probably hasn't?"

That had made Hannibal grin with pride for a moment. "True. But I've heard, that they have a contact, a Mr. Lee. He's got a laundry in Chinatown..."

And so, one week later, Tennyson Mitchell, little fish in the big pond of Hollywood, had entered a small laundry in Chinatown, asking an irritable old man about the A-Team. The outcome of a long story was, that Tenny should send Tamara herself to meet a certain Johnny Walker at the pier, fifth bench on the left of the big clock, at six on Friday.

It was now – Hannibal looked up after taking another good swallow of stale water – nineteen minutes past six. Hannibal decided to give her another minute, just to get an even number.

And then she appeared.

He regretted wearing his wino-disguise at once.

Couldn't he have chosen something a little less appalling? Tamara Hurl was a Something on Legs. He had wondered why Tenny was so keen on helping her when she was well in her fifties, and he not directly related to her. Now he knew: Tamara was like Marilyn Monroe in "Some Like It Hot". The scene, where Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon stare at her with their mouths open, as she's walking down the platform, her ukulele stashed under one arm, in this spectacular black dress. Or was it a coat? Hannibal wasn't sure.

Tamara passed by, but from her searching, nervous looks, Hannibal knew, it was her. He decided to wait for some more seconds. He wanted a closer look. Not that Tamara actually looked like Marilyn, even though she was blond. She was not even extraordinarily good-looking by normal standards, but the effect was the same. Tamara Hurl walked in a cloud of charms, even when distressed, as she was now.

Hannibal cleared his throat, it was time to make contact, however lousy he might look and smell. "I'm a mind-reader, you know that?" he asked, his speech a bit slurry to indicate drunkenness.

She turned around to look at him. Her eyes were bright green, he noticed – what a combination, good lord...

"No. And I'm waiting for someone." She nodded courteously and turned her back at Hannibal, looking up and down the pier.

"I know," Hannibal said. "And for a buck I can give you the name of the good-looking man you're waiting for." Hannibal did not snort, as he would've usually done. He didn't want to appear any more disgusting than necessary. So he went on without a snort, "He is good lookin', ain't he?"

Tamara turned again. "That's a lucky guess, man. But here, have the buck and move a few benches down, will you?" Tamara blindly handed him a ten-dollar-bill.

"That's ten bucks, lady," Hannibal blurted, staring at the bill.

"Who cares?" Tamara snapped impatiently, but then she bit her lower lip. "Sorry," she apologized sinerely.

Hannibal liked that. He liked that a lot. "Never mind. – Johnny Walker," he added after a second. He saw Tamara's eyes grow wide. – God, they were beautiful! – "That's the man you're waiting for. And as fate wants to have it, that's me, Mrs. Hurl." The slur was completely gone. He got up, stretched out his hand in greeting. She did not take it.

* * *

 _I hope Hannibal isn't too smitten in this one. I want to keep it in character as much as possible. And I promise you, the continuation is NOT a Hannibal-love-fest. There's some actual plot coming._

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

_I honestly thought this was not much of a cliffhanger ... I hope this bit is better for your nerves.  
_

* * *

 **Tuesday, 16** **th**

Face irritably slapped Murdock on the shoulder. The rattled breathing had been fine inside the VA, to trick the staff. But that had been ten minutes ago.

"What?" Murdock asked as hoarse as he could manage.

"Stop it, you don't need to pretend anymore."

"What you mean, pretend?" Murdock asked, still hoarse and with false hurt in his looks. "I don't pretend, I am ill!" Murdock crossed his arms before his chest and pushed his lower lip forward.

"Aww, Murdock, c'mon!"

"No, Face, I'm not talking to you," Murdock forgot about his "illness" for a second and therefore sounded perfectly healthy and normal.

"Oh, but by telling me that, you just did talk to me," Face teased.

Murdock hmphed, and turned his head away. But only a few seconds later he turned back to Face. "What's the job about?" he asked, foregoing pretend illness and pouting in favour of curiosity.

Face shrugged and turned right, before he answered, "I've got no idea. Hannibal checked this one out by himself. All I know is, there's a woman in trouble. What kind of trouble..." Face shrugged. He wasn't particularly interested, Hannibal would tell them soon enough.

"A woman in trouble?" Murdock asked with suggestive undertone.

"Murdock, I'm not that easy!" Face protested, only to add, "I take a look at the women first..."

The 'vette pulled up in the driveway to Hannibal's latest accommodation. Hannibal must trust this woman a lot, to arrange the meeting at his own place. On the other hand, he'd been living in this small house for almost three months now, it was time for a change anyway. Hannibal didn't like staying in the same place for too long, which would be four months, tops. He got itchy feet then and moved someplace else.

Murdock hopped out of the 'vette without using the door.

"Murdock!" Face complained.

Murdock turned around and looked back at him.

"There's a reason why the engineers equipped this car with doors," Face went on.

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure there is... I bet they are wonderful for waking up neighbours at nights," Murdock countered with seriousness.

* * *

Hannibal had pushed the curtain aside a little, when he'd heard the 'vette. Just checking, just old habits. Always on the watch. A sparkle showed in his eyes for a second, as he saw Murdock and Face in the driveway. He didn't hear the conversation going on, but could imagine it well: car doors, and Face complaining about Murdock not using them. Hannibal let the curtain fall back into place.

BA showed up in the doorway that led to the kitchen at the back of the house. He looked inquisitive and relaxed instantly, when he saw Hannibal staying calm.

Tamara, who sat on the couch in the far corner of the living room, straightened up in fearful anticipation. She was still not sure whether this was a good idea or not. True, she needed help, but... This BA Baracus, he was real scary. And Hannibal Smith, she was not sure he wasn't crazy. Not sure either that he was, but she couldn't exclude the possibility.

The door opened.

"Hidy-ho, folks!" Murdock greeted his friends cheerily.

Hannibal greeted back blithely, BA just made a face and glared at Murdock.

Murdock didn't care for either, he bowed down as if something was around his legs. "Billy, remember what I told you in the car before: be a good boy and behave yourself!"

Tamara wished she could shrink away or sink into the earth or just disappear with a plop. Or even without a plop. She just wanted to be anywhere but here. Hannibal Smith was probably crazy. This man was definitely crazy.

"Why dontcha take your own advice and shut up?" BA snapped. "Be a good example," he added with a mean smile.

Hannibal did not pay any attention to the exchange. Instead he turned to their client. "Tamara, may I introduce to you HM Murdock?"

Tamara managed a faint smile.

"Hi, Tamara, how ya doin'?" Murdock greeted her with his best smile.

"Uhm... hello..."

"Where's Face?" Hannibal asked, noticing that Face should have shown up by now.

"Probably wiping Billy's pawn-prints from the 'vette," Murdock answered light-heartedly, walking further into the room.

Hannibal was just about to go and check, when the door opened again and Face entered. "Murdock, next time..." he warned, leaving the actual threat to anyone's imagination.

"Face, Tamara Hurl. Tamara, Templeton Peck," Hannibal did the introductions.

"Hello..." Tamara spoke first.

"Uhm, yeah... hi, I mean good afternoon," Face stammered.

Murdock, in a slightly teasing mood this day and noticing Face's insecurity, couldn't stop himself saying, "You've taken your look, Facey?"

Face needed a second to get what Murdock was referring to, but when he did, he glared at him.

Tamara was too nervous to notice much and the tension between the two young men completely went past her, but not past BA and Hannibal.

BA just kept quiet about it, like he always did. He didn't speak up unless he felt it was him or nobody.

Hannibal on the other hand tried to find out who of the two was more responsible for the tension. "Lieutenant?" he asked.

"It's nothing, Colonel. Just a little stupid something Murdock had going on earlier," Face answered with a meaningful sideways glance at Murdock.

"Is that so, Captain?" Hannibal turned to Murdock.

Murdock realised that maybe he'd gone a tiny, weeny, little step too far and nodded.

"Good, so it won't be a problem anymore," Hannibal decided. His good mood was restored. Not much could ruin his good mood, anyway. And that was Tamara's doing. She was with him, sat on his couch, filling the whole room with her exceptional aura.

Hannibal cleared his throat and sat down next to Tamara, not as close as his libido wished, but close enough to placate it for a while. For further relaxation he tucked a cigar between his lips. "Face, you got some fire?" he asked.

Instead of an answer Face just pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit the cigar.

Hannibal pleasurably puffed for a minute, before he finally told them what they needed to know: "The situation is this: Tamara here is the director of a bank in San Diego. It's small, but its clients are rich, so there's money in it and we're gonna get paid."

"Good to hear for a change," Face threw in.

"I thought you'd like that," Hannibal answered with a grin, before he went on with the story: "One and a half years ago she met this nice, distinguished, handsome guy, Benjamin Crane. He told her, he's in the export-business, selling used cars to Mexico, but that's just a set-up. He is a criminal of some sorts. She doesn't know the full extent of his actions, but he's using her and her position in the bank to launder money. He used her codes, had access to her keys to the bank and all. When she found out..." Hannibal didn't finish. Tamara's tears were still fresh in his memory. She'd cried so hard, when she had told him the story. She had really loved that man. She had confessed that she had been dreaming up a future, marriage and all, despite her age. But then he had taken her heart, broken it into pieces and trampled on the pieces afterwards. "She took him to task, wanted him to stop, but... He was in no way the man she thought he was. He threatened to kill her, or her loved ones, if she called the cops."

"So she called us," Face said.

"That's right." Hannibal dragged on his cigar and blew a thick cloud of blue smoke into the air. "And she was very wise to do so."

Murdock pushed his hands into his pockets and let his eyes jump from Hannibal to Tamara and back. Two things were bugging him. First: why had Hannibal told the story? Why not Tamara herself? After all, she knew it best. Probable answer to this: She was emotionally too involved to relate the story herself. Or they simply spooked her, and she wasn't sure how to approach them. Murdock decided to keep Billy on the leash, so he wouldn't cause too much trouble. The second thing that irked him was: Hannibal was attracted to that woman. Attracted in an unusual way. Unusual in that he tried to hide his attraction. Just why did he do that? He usually showed his affection for women openly, seldom as it happened.

BA had similar thoughts, although he concentrated more on the first thought. The second thought rather expressed as an uneasy, general feeling he couldn't quite determine.

Face didn't think anything like that. He only thought that he didn't like this Tamara Hurl. He didn't even wonder why, he just stated to himself that he didn't like her. Not – at – all. She didn't seem at all trustworthy to him. Certainly, he wouldn't deposit his money in her bank. In the back of his mind he wondered if she wasn't a willing part of the criminal actions taking place.

* * *

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

_Answers ... I hope I can deliver. Eventually. But first, let's meet the slime-ball and jump into the mission, shall we?  
_

* * *

 **Wednesday, 17** **th**

Benjamin Crane walked up and down his living-room. Tamara had promised to call him when she returned. He hadn't liked the idea of her going to LA in the first place, but it was her niece's wedding, he couldn't very well forbid her to go. Not, if he wanted to keep a low profile and everybody unsuspecting.

He had been wracking his mind for a way to make her stay anyway, but no good idea had come to him, and accompanying her wasn't such a good idea either on second thoughts. He wanted to stay low, not be known by too many people. It was bad enough the employees in the bank knew him.

The phone rang.

"Yeah?"

"I'm back." Two words, and she put the phone down.

Ben smiled. It was fine with him that she'd disconnected. This was only a control-call, and they both knew it. He put his own phone down and snatched his keys from the table. It was only twenty minutes from his place to hers.

* * *

Tamara opened the door, knowing it would be Ben.

"Ah, so I see you really are back. Was it nice? How did the cake taste?" Uninvited, Ben walked into her apartment.

"The cake was fine, the wedding was fine, what are you doing here?"

"Ah, Tammy-darling, I'm disappointed with you." Ben showed fake hurt, using the nickname he knew she didn't like.

"Ben, just leave. And if you don't, I'm gonna scream," Tamara threatened.

"And who's gonna hear it? You see, that's the trouble with these expensive apartments," Ben waved his hands generously around the place, and grinned evilly before he continued, "you get lousy neighbours to go with them... They all mind their own business."

"That may be so, but Tamara here happens to be my business," a white-haired man said, stepping around the corner and into Ben's line of view, taking his cigar from his mouth.

"And who are you?" Ben asked, a little overthrown by that man's sudden appearance, but he soon recovered and turned back to Tamara. He lowered his voice to a whisper and asked, "He's not a cop, is he? I've warned you to call the cops..."

"I'm not a cop, Mr. Crane. But when I'm finished with you, I bet you'll wish I were. What d'you say? One dollar?" He pulled a dollar-bill from his pocket to show the bet was on.

"You better not interfere with my business, Mr..."

"Smith," the man helped out with a sweet smile.

"Smith, of course, what else. John Smith I bet," Ben said sarcastically.

"Congratulations, Mr. Crane, how did you know?" Smith put the cigar back to his mouth. "I see you are clever, Ben. – Do you mind me calling you Ben? Anyway. – You're clever and I'm happy to see that, because it will make things that much more interesting."

Ben saw the guy smiling around his cigar, cheery like someone with a few marbles short. But in his eyes he had a glint of steel. Ben was a lot of things, but certainly not stupid. He knew that "John Smith" – if that really was his name – was tougher than he looked at first sight. 'Tough, but not tough enough.' Ben smiled inwardly at the rhyme. 'Not tough enough for Benjamin Crane!' He turned his attention back to Tamara. "I'll see you in the bank, tomorrow, don't forget." Then he was gone.

* * *

Tamara thankfully accepted the cup of coffee Murdock handed her.

"What was that about seeing you in the bank?" Hannibal asked.

"We are still playing the happy couple for the employees. Every Monday and Thursday we're having lunch together. He picks me up, we go to some stylish place and over soup and spaghetti he tells me what he plans next."

Face looked up from the papers that lay spread before him. Tamara had made copies of all the transactions Ben had made, and he was working through them now. The transactions were hard to follow and all too often led to a dead end. "He tells you his plans? Isn't that... stupid?"

Tamara shrugged. "It's not that he tells me everything, you know, like where he's moving the money and such. Just when and for how long he'll need my computer."

"That way his transactions take place during bank hours. Not silly." Face commented.

"And how does that help us?" BA asked in frustration.

"Patience, Sergeant, patience." Hannibal soothed.

Face looked from one to the other then pushed the papers away with a sigh. "I need a computer, I can't work like this. More specifically, I need a bank-computer with access to the network. I need to follow these amounts and see where they're going."

"It's all there," Tamara countered, pointing at the papers.

"Maybe, maybe not," Face answered cautiously. "Maybe there are things you've overlooked?"

"You telling me I'm not good at my job?" Tamara was hurt and Hannibal had to take a grip on himself to keep silent. Face's request was justified, after all.

"No, I'm telling you, that four eyes see more than two," Face replied calmly. "I just want to do a good job, that's all. That's what you pay me to do. I don't want to waste your money, Ma'am."

Tamara nodded, she was soothed, money was her language. "We can go right now."

"Fine." Face got up and collected the papers.

* * *

"Mrs. Hurl, there are..."

"Later, Joanne, I've got an appointment," Tamara cut off her secretary.

"But remember to call Mr. Dobson, it's important!" Joanne insisted.

Tamara just nodded and unlocked the door to her office, Face on her heels. "Mr. Dobson..." she muttered irritably, "Mr. Dobson always has it important."

Face didn't ask who that Mr. Dobson was, but walked right up to the computer. He switched it on, then made way for Tamara. He acted as if he didn't bother, but looked closely when she typed in the password... just in case.

"Can I get you anything? Coffee? Coke, water, lunch? There's a wonderful sushi-bar just around the corner..."

"Sushi is not mine, but thanks. Water would be nice, though." Face didn't look at her, when he said it. He was already opening files, typing in the account numbers Tamara had taken down in her notes.

"You're not..." Tamara started uneasily.

"I'm not what?" Face looked up. "Oh!" Realisation dawned on him. "No, I'm not messing around with any figures. And I won't pry where I shouldn't." He smiled reassuringly, then returned to his work.

* * *

Hannibal wandered through the apartment. It was big and stylish. Not really comfortable, probably done by an interior designer. But throughout there were little bits and pieces that gave the place that certain, farouche charm that surrounded Tamara. He was hesitant for a second to enter her bedroom, but curiosity won out. He cautiously opened the door and entered a small room. It was quite different from the rest of the apartment. It was out of fashion, stuffed with furniture from different decades and different styles - this room had never seen an interior designer. Heavy perfume hang in the air. On a low bookshelf was a row of pictures. Again curiosity won, and Hannibal walked over to take a closer look at them. It was typical family-pictures. Two girls dressed up as princesses, one of these two girls in jeans and t-shirt on the next photo. Then a young, smiling couple -Tennyson Mitchell at a very young age, Hannibal realised with a grin.

A picture of Tamara herself, about twenty years of age. Hannibal stood and stared at it. She had not been particularly pretty, not even back then, but that certain something almost jumped out of the picture. It was the glint in her eyes, the twist in her mouth, the curve of her eyebrows... Hannibal was so taken by the picture that he almost missed the small photo that stuck in the bottom left corner of the frame. A little boy with big, curious eyes looking up into the camera. Her son? Did she have a son? His research hadn't brought up anything about a child, but he could have done a bad job.

A hot rush ran through his body. If she did have a child, and he'd missed that, what else had he missed in his research? On the other hand, they had been on this case for two days now, had been in her company. If she'd planned to set them up, she would have done so by now. The rush of guilt subsided. Instead a nasty sting of jealousy poked his heart. If she did have a son, it would mean there had been somebody in her life, somebody important enough to...

Hannibal turned away and quickly left the bedroom. It was not for him to feel like that. It was absolutely none of his business.

"Any plan?" BA asked absentmindedly, not really expecting him to have one yet.

"Nope, not yet. I need to see what Face finds out, first," Hannibal answered, throwing a glance over BA's shoulder. "What's that?" He asked, changing subject. To him it looked like a new kind of bug.

"Just a little something," BA answered, very informatively, and went on with his work.

"Just make sure it works when I need it."

* * *

Face was halfway through Tamara's list and so far, he hadn't found anything new. He looked over at Tamara, who was sitting on a leather couch that was in one corner, working through some files.

The longer he was with that woman, the more he grew to dislike her. He had no concrete reasons to ground his feelings, but... He just didn't like her. She didn't seem true to him. And that she was wrapping Hannibal around her little finger only added to that. Hannibal didn't even notice, which made it only worse.

"What?" Tamara asked sharply, looking up from her work, staring back at Face.

Face jumped in his seat, he had not noticed her looking up. "Uhm... nothing, just thinking."

"Look somewhere else while you're thinking, I don't like people staring at me. Makes me nervous."

"I'm sorry." Face returned to the figures on the screen, but soon he was staring at Tamara again.

"What?! - And give me the truth this time."

"It's really nothing..." Face started, but then made up his mind, "I want you to stop messing around with Hannibal."

"I'm not messing around with him!" Tamara shot back, truly indignant.

"Yes, you are. I'm prepared to believe that you don't do it on purpose, but you are messing with him. So watch yourself in the future. I don't want you to hurt Hannibal." He hesitated for a moment, trying to stare Tamara down, before he went on, "And you've got him in a position where you can." Not liking her really made it a lot easier to talk to her so candidly. "I swear, if you hurt him, I'll make you regret it."

"Who taught you vindictiveness?" Tamara asked coldly.

'Life,' Face thought but didn't speak it out, a little shocked by his own thought.

"I thought you were a modern version of Robin Hood, helping the helpless, justice, and all that stuff," Tamara went on.

"I'm not vindictive," Face gave what was supposed to be the truth and best stayed known as the truth. "I simply won't let anything happen to those I care for. I won't kill you, don't fear. But I'll make you regret, be sure of that."

"You speak as if I already had hurt him."

"No, just making sure you know what's in for you." With that Face returned to work. Having cleared his head, he was finally able to really work.

* * *

"Anything?" Hannibal greeted Tamara when she returned from the bank. Face was not with her.

"Yes, your man," Tamara hesitated calling an adult man "Face", "has found something I've overlooked." It was hard for her to admit her mistake, but this was no time for pride now. "Two times Ben had paid money to one certain Enrique Cortez. It was 100.000 $ the first time and 160.000 the second time. Your man said he was going to do a research on Cortez and will come later."

"It's ok to call him Face, Tamara," Hannibal reassured with a smile, guessing her problem.

"It just sounds so silly!" Tamara answered with a wry smile.

"Not much worse then Tennyson, if you ask me."

Tamara looked puzzled for a second, then asked, "How do you know about Tennyson?"

"He made the first contact, remember?" Hannibal reminded her with an amused but warm smile. It wasn't necessary for her to know how he really knew Tennyson from his other life.

"Oh." Tamara nodded, feeling particularly stupid.

"No need to feel silly, you're under a lot of stress," Hannibal reassured with a smile, resisting the urge to touch her and pull her closer... Damn his libido! He settled on just putting his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them gently for a moment.

* * *

Face rang the bell, not happy with what he'd found out, not happy with what he knew it would lead Hannibal to do. Not happy with entering this apartment, that seemed so... hostile was too strong a word. Unpleasant, Face decided. Uncomfortable, unwelcoming.

Murdock was the one to open the door, his gun ready, just in case. "Faceman, c'min," he said easily before he lowered his gun and made way for Face.

Face, with Murdock on his heels, entered the living room, and looked into the expectant eyes of Hannibal. "Ok, this is the story," Face started, no further prompting needed, and loosened his tie a little. "Enrique Cortez... I understand Tamara has told you?"

Hannibal nodded, the others shook their heads.

Face dropped down onto the couch next to Murdock. "Anyway, he's got money from Ben, quite a lot. I've done a little research, and found out that Cortez is a dealer, he sells and buys anything from cocaine to stolen car-radios. He's not a really big fish yet, but on his way up. And Ben's helping him."

"Helping him?" Tamara asked.

"He's laundering Cortez' money. He receives a certain amount, splits it up, sends it for a ride on a merry-go-round and then returns it. Minus a provision for his work. That way the authorities can't touch him, they don't have enough proof."

"What a sweet-heart," Hannibal said.

"Am I right, Colonel, in thinking that we nab Cortez too?" Murdock asked with what he called his "sane look", but the glint in his eyes was pure jazz and belied him.

"If we can, Captain, and I don't see why we shouldn't, all of a sudden."

BA threw a glance at Face and shook his head. Face knew exactly what he was thinking.

"He's on the jazz," they said together.

* * *

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Wednesday, 17** **th** **to Thursday, 18** **th**

When Face entered the guest-room Murdock was already in bed – well, "on couch" – but not yet asleep.

The room did have a double bed, and Hannibal had taken his right as the CO, leaving it open for the rest of the team to fight for the second half of the bed. Face had won, which left the two couches for Murdock and BA.

Murdock lay awake, watching and musing over the shadows the curtains painted across the ceiling. He completely ignored Face when he came in, just as Face completely ignored Murdock at first.

He undressed slowly and prepared for bed. His mind was swirling. There was Benjamin Crane, stalking Tamara, cause that's what he really was doing besides taking advantage of her position in the bank. Then there was Cortez, who would soon have no higher interest than to dump their sorry asses, thanks to Hannibal and his jazz. And, not to forget, there was Tamara Hurl, who was stirring Hannibal's feelings and maybe brains. It might disable Hannibal. They were heading towards a precarious situation and Hannibal was probably just mediocre instead of brilliant.

"Murdock?"

"Hm?"

"What do you think of Tamara?"

"She's our client," Murdock carefully replied, still watching the shadows.

"Yeah, but what do you think of her?"

"She's got the Colonel at his pituitary gland."

"The what?" Face asked confused.

"His libido if you like that one better," Murdock explained. "Why, what's bothering you?"

"Cortez is not just a little fish, he's got capacities... We need Hannibal to think clear, we need him at a 100%. He can't do that with Tamara messing around with him."

"Hannibal thinking clear on the jazz?" Murdock asked ironically. "Get real, Face."

"Murdock..." Face had a very bad feeling about all of this. He tried to get the situation straightened out for himself, and Murdock couldn't take him seriously for even a second.

"Sorry, muchacho. – What's really bothering you? It can't be Cortez. We've fried bigger fish before."

Face sighed and shrugged. "I don't know. I don't like her."

"That's not an argument, Face, and you know it."

"Yeah, yeah. But that doesn't change things. I don't like her and I don't want Hannibal to be with her. In any sense ever!" Face crossed his arms before himself and stared at the floor. "She's... there's something completely wrong about her."

"She's extra-ordinary in the true sense of the word, but..." Murdock sought for words. "I don't think anyone but you has got a problem with her."

"Is that supposed to help me?"

"Not really," Murdock admitted. "Just give her a chance, ok? Hannibal seems to really like her."

"That's my problem," Face interrupted uncharacteristically truthful.

"He seems to really like her," Murdock repeated, overriding Face's interjection, "and he'll come after you if you interfere. He won't understand. Not that I do."

"I don't understand it myself. It's almost as if I were jealous, but I'm not." Face shrugged again. "Sorry to bother you, just was on my mind."

"Anytime." Murdock settled back again to watch the shadows. He had seen cowboys before, pixies, planes, hamburgers... Now all shadows formed Hannibal and Tamara. Annoyed he closed his eyes and gave sleep a chance.

* * *

Face wiped his brow. It was sweaty. No wonder, he was in the tropics, somewhere. He wore too big jeans and a too small t-shirt. Cowboy-boots on his feet. What the...?

He turned around, looking for a clue to what was happening. "A dream," he told himself. "I'm dreaming." And he knew it was true. Letting his mind drift, he started walking along a white sand beach that was suddenly there. Deep blue sea to his right and green jungle to his left. Palm trees here and there.

He walked, taking off the boots after a while, leaving them behind in the sand, feeling warm, soft sand under his feet. On second thought he took off the t-shirt too.

"Go away!" a female hysterical voice suddenly screamed from out of the jungle.

"What?" he turned towards the voice.

"Go away! I don't want you, so just leave me alone!"

"I'm not anywhere near you!" Face shouted back and started walking again. He didn't plan to interfere with anybody. He just wanted to enjoy this beautiful beach and the sunshine.

"I SAID, GO AWAY!" The woman screamed again, and then, out of the jungle, a coconut came flying. Face wasn't prepared and so it hit him hard on the shoulder.

"OUCH!" – Wasn't pain supposed to not exist in dreams, Face asked himself, and if so, how could this possibly hurt? Before he could find an answer to his question, another coconut hit him. "OUCH, dammit, stop throwing nuts at me!"

"Go away, go away, GO AWAY!" A third nut came Face's direction. This time he managed to dodge it.

"I'm off already, just give me time to-" A fourth coconut. That was too much. Face picked up one of the fruits that lay at his feet and with all his power he threw it into the green. A scream of pain followed by curses and a fifth nut thrown at him was the reaction to this. Face dodged the nut easily. While he was picking up another coconut he had time to wonder how silly all of this was. A coconut-fight...

It went back and forth for a while, Face dodging every nut that came flying his direction and narrowing the distance between himself and his obscure enemy. He parted the undergrowth and stumbled for a second, recognising Tamara standing in a ridiculous brown dress, surrounded by coconuts.

"You..." he heard himself hiss in his dream. And before he knew what was happening he launched at her, throwing her to the ground, wrapping his fingers around her neck and pressing...

Face woke up, breathing hard and being disgusted with himself. He'd almost killed their present client in his dream. That he didn't like her did not justify such a dream. What the hell was wrong with him?

He looked over to where Murdock still slept. Then to BA who had made himself comfortable on the small couch near the window, softly snoring away. Then to Hannibal... But Hannibal was not there. The one half of the bed where Hannibal was supposed to sleep was empty.

A bad feeling crept into his gut. He got up silently and tip-toed across the room to the door. He sneaked out into the corridor, closed the door behind himself and listened. He heard low voices in the kitchen. 'Good, at least they're still talking,' Face thought, making his way over to the kitchen door. After a moment of hesitation he pushed it open.

Hannibal was leaning against the table, Tamara was sitting on the table, next to him. They were close to each other, dangerously close. Tamara had her legs parted slightly, enough to be inviting.

"Face..." Hannibal looked a little like a teenager caught by his father.

"Hannibal..." Face very much felt like said father.

"Uhm, you need anything?" Tamara asked, sensing the tension and trying to ease it a bit.

"Just a glass of water," Face replied. Tamara got up to get it for him. Face hardly noticed. He had eyes for Hannibal only.

"Face, it's -"

"Yeah?"

"It's... I don't have to justify myself to you."

"No, you don't. But keep your mind free, Hannibal. Cortez is not going to be an easy case."

Hannibal thought for a moment, then he turned to Tamara. "Would you excuse me for a moment?" he asked softly and with a kindness he rarely used.

"Sure," Tamara nodded, standing with that glass of water in her hand.

Hannibal indicated the door. Face understood and went out first. In the living room he turned to look at Hannibal.

"Lieutenant, I won't tolerate this behaviour!" Hannibal started angrily.

Face did not reply.

"I know what I'm doing!" Hannibal went on.

"Do you?"

"You doubt that?" Hannibal asked bewildered. He'd never been questioned by his men before.

Face felt uneasiness creeping up inside him. His mind and education told him he had no right to talk to Hannibal like this, but it had to be said. "Well, I think," he started, trying to convey his point, "that, to a certain degree, you are preoccupied and diverted."

"What?" Hannibal snapped, angry and unbelieving.

"I..." Face tried again, but he just couldn't find the words to express his concerns. So far Hannibal had never let private matters get in his way. It was just natural to assume that this time wouldn't be any different, yet Face had the distinct feeling that it was.

"You don't like Tamara," Hannibal helped out matter-of-factly.

Face cringed inwardly at the statement. Of course it couldn't have escaped the Colonel either way, although Face suspected that meanwhile he was obvious enough about his reservations towards her that anyone would have noticed.

"But that's your problem," Hannibal continued, some anger seeping back into his carefully controlled voice. "You see, I happen to like her, and if you can't deal with this, that, too, is your problem."

Face stared down at his feet. "I know, Colonel," Face admitted through gritted teeth. Placating Hannibal was the best option he had. It wouldn't do any good to exasperate him. All that would achieve would be Hannibal on Tamara's side, against him.

"Then why are we here, having this stupid little talk?" Hannibal asked. He was still angry, Face could tell. But it wasn't that bad anymore.

"I just... Call it a hunch," Face answered, looking up. "I got a bad feeling, and I just wanted to let you know about it."

"Ok, acknowledged." Hannibal stood for a little while longer, obviously considering his next words. "Face, if this is such a big problem to you..." he began. "What do you expect me to do? I can't let Tamara down. We've **never** let anyone down before..."

Face read the message between the lines and almost whispered, "You can't do this job without me. Neither of you is good enough with figures and money. Not even her."

Hannibal sighed, knowing all too well his Lieutenant was right. "All I ask of you is to be polite to her, ok? Nobody expects you to like her, but we do have a job to do. We promised to help her, and we will."

"You promised to help her, Hannibal, not us. You didn't even ask us on that," Face blurted, faster than he could think.

"Is that it?!" Hannibal burst out in renewed anger.

"No, that's not it!" Face exploded, but got himself under control right after that. "It's her, she's false, she's not what she says she is, she's pretending, she's putting up a show for us, for you especially. I just know that inside she's not even half as pretty as she is outside. She's... she's... she's... Hannibal, don't you understand?" Face looked at Hannibal with pleading eyes.

"No, I don't. And I want you to stop that, Lieutenant. Clear?"

Face clenched his teeth and uttered a, "Yes, Sir."

Hannibal nodded to indicate the conversation was over, then left. Back to the kitchen, back to where Tamara was waiting for him.

Face wondered if Hannibal would need his half of the guest-bed at all.

* * *

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey Readers! I love your comments. I can't reply individually, because I fear if I do, I'll give things away, and I don't want to spoil the story for you. I'm curious about who guesses it first._ ;)

* * *

 _ **Thursday, 18** **th**_

Murdock entertained himself by imagining – and partly acting out – a planned bank robbery, and how he would prevent it. He had taken Tamara to her office in the morning, and since then stood watch outside the bank, even though there wasn't much to watch. Therefore, to keep his mind from imploding from boredom, he created that bank robbery, complete with the consequential praise of the general public, who congratulated him to his exceptional bravery, his cunning abilities, and his incredible awareness to notice the signs of a bank robbery before it even took place.

But when Benjamin Crane pulled up in an expensive sports car that practically screamed "mid-life-crisis" to the world, Murdock was all attention.

Ben parked right at the front door in a no-parking-zone and went inside. Only five minutes later he came back with Tamara at his arm.

Murdock watched them both getting on the car, Ben grinning broadly, showing two rows of jacket crowns, Tamara brooding. Murdock still watched as the car disappeared around the corner then he pulled the tracking-device, BA had built, from his jacket listening to the steady "beep".

BA's van stopped beside Murdock only ten seconds later. "Don't stand and stare, get in!"

"Cool it, Big Guy, what've we got this for?!" Murdock held up the device, shaking it playfully.

"For making the job easier. But it ain't got no infinite range, so get in!"

BA and Murdock watched Tamara and Ben having lunch in an expensive restaurant. What they were talking about was lost on them, though. The bug BA had equipped Tamara with stopped working after five minutes.

"Should've checked on the bug..." BA scolded himself.

"Now, now, Big Guy. There's not much lost. Tamara can tell us... We'll just have to wait a little."

"Tell us?" BA snapped at Murdock. "Like she kept records on Crane's activities?"

"She..." Murdock felt his well of arguments quickly drying out. "That was something else," he tried to comfort BA over his failure.

BA just shot Murdock a glance this time. He hated it when he failed. Murdock was right in a way, Tamara would tell them what had been spoken. But she could very well forget some important details. If on purpose or not, was anybody's guess, and BA just hated the fact that he couldn't double check on what she told them later.

* * *

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to spare me this evening, I really do have a headache." Tamara rubbed her temples and smiled apologetically. They were all assembled in her living room, and she had just related the details of her meeting with Ben. He wanted to use her computer the next morning, which actually was the only thing of relevance. The rest of the lunch had been a mere exchange of threats and insults.

"I'll get you some aspirin," Hannibal offered without hesitation. "You go to bed, I'll bring it." He was forcing a calm expression onto his face, but inwardly he fumed. This Ben Crane was a bastard. He forced Tamara to be his unwilling partner in crime by threatening her loved ones. A behaviour Hannibal just couldn't bear. Dragging others down with them, the lowest a criminal could sink.

"Thank you, that's very nice of you," Tamara answered, already turning to leave.

Face, Murdock and BA exchanged glances. They didn't know Hannibal like this.

Hannibal carried the glass of water in one hand, two aspirins in the other. Tamara was just lying down when he entered her bedroom.

"Here..."

Tamara accepted the pills and swallowed them, taking one big gulp of the water. "Thanks."

Hannibal took the opportunity to sweep an "official" look around the room. "This looks different from the rest of your apartment," he said, his undertone asking for an explanation.

"Well... I... I just collected a couple of things over the years. This little table, for example, is from my mother," she pointed at a small table next to the door. "I know it's not much of anything, but I couldn't give it away."

"It's a very nice piece," Hannibal contradicted.

"You shouldn't shit an old woman."

"You're not old."

"No?"

"No." Hannibal decided a change of subject would be a good idea, so he turned to the photos. "Who are all these?"

"Relatives... nieces, nephews, cousins..." Tamara waved her hand to indicate it wasn't that important.

"And who's he?" Hannibal had pulled the small picture of the boy from the frame and showed it to her.

"Put it back!"

Hannibal hurried to stick the photo back in its place.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to yell. I'm just a little stressed out and don't like it too much, when my stuff is moved around." Tamara apologised.

"No need to be sorry. I could have asked without pulling it out of place."

"No, no, I was overreacting." Tamara sat up against the head of the bed as she continued, "He's no one important really, some distant relative. My ex-husband's cousin's brother in law's nephew or something. He's been visiting us once many years ago. It was just a few days. But he was a very cute little boy, very charming, very..." Tamara trailed off.

"Very nosy, I bet," Hannibal said into the silence.

"What? Oh... yeah. He's been around everywhere." She absentmindedly rubbed her chin. "You should have seen him. He was a sweet. Sometimes I wonder what became of him..."

Hannibal let the issue go. He suspected that Tamara had wanted a child of her own but never had one; and this little boy somehow had become her substitute.

"I'll better leave now, you'll need your rest."

Tamara smiled warily. "Thanks. I'm sorry I..."

"Told you, no need to be sorry. Good night and nice dreams."

* * *

Face was pacing. He didn't like Hannibal in Tamara's bedroom. There wouldn't be anything happening, since she didn't feel well, but still...

"Face, would you?" Murdock asked.

"What?" Face asked before he understood. Reluctantly he sat down, fidgeting with the arm-rests instead.

"Face, calm down," Murdock reassured. "There's nothing for you to worry about."

"I know."

"How about you and me gettin' a little something to eat?" Murdock suggested. He didn't wait for Face's answer though, but just got up and pulled Face along with him to the kitchen. There he opened the fridge and stared inside.

"Salami? You want a salami-sandwich?"

"No, Murdock. I'm not hungry," Face said with annoyance.

Murdock ignored him and opened the freezer. "How about ice-cream? You can always eat ice-cream."

"What flavour?" Face asked, humouring Murdock, but he really had no desire for ice-cream... Or just anything.

"Uhm... vanilla and... coconut."

Face's stomach revolted. Coconut. He hated coconut. Especially coconut ice-cream. "No, thanks." Face turned to leave, but Murdock held him back.

"Face? Can we get this straight? What's wrong with you here?" He gave Face a look that was really sane. Sane and concerned.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm having a bad week, that's all."

"Yeah, sure. You expect me to believe that?"

"No, and honestly I don't care whether you do." Face tried to leave again, again without success.

"I'm not letting you off so easy. You said Hannibal had to think clear, and I agree with you. But you, too, need to think clear and be 100 %. So come out with whatever's on your mind." Murdock sat down and patted the seat of the chair next to him. "I'll try and be your shrink for tonight."

"You try being your own shrink before you start doctoring around with other people's minds, ok?"

"Other people's problems are always so much easier to solve than your own. I'm sure I can help."

Face stood in the doorway and Murdock could see an internal fight taking place. Just as he thought Face would talk, Hannibal appeared behind him.

"Face," he just said.

"Yeah?" Face turned around, looking at Hannibal.

Murdock suppressed his sigh. He'd had him. Just a few more seconds and Face would have talked. But no...

Sometimes, Hannibal's timing just sucked.

"Can you set up sort of a trap for Ben tomorrow?"

"A trap?"

"Yes. When Ben starts shoving money around tomorrow, I want you to follow it, and then demonstrate your own impressive money-shoving-skills."

"You mean steal the money," Face clarified.

"Well, if you want to put it in such crude terms..."

Face didn't answer that, but simply gave Hannibal a look that said, "spare me".

"Well, that's settled then." Hannibal nodded, satisfied with himself, tucked his cigar into the corner of his mouth and left.

Murdock watched him leave warily. And for that he had interrupted the easily most important conversation he'd ever had with Face? Hannibal could have told them that bit the next morning. Murdock looked over at Face, who had wrapped his arms around himself. "Face?"

"I guess I'll hit the sack." That said, Face turned and left.

Murdock propped his elbows up on the kitchen table and hid his face in his hands. Frustrating.

* * *

Face was lying on his half of the bed, but didn't sleep, it was way too early for sleep.

His head was spinning with reeling thoughts. He tried to occupy them with something easy, settle them on something simple and reassuring. He didn't want to think about Tamara, about her being with Hannibal, he didn't want to think about Murdock prodding him, he didn't want to think about what he might dream of once he fell asleep.

What he wanted, was to sit behind the wheel of his corvette and floor the pedal. Rush down curvy streets, feel the centrifugal forces trying to carry him off the road. He wanted to feel the wind tearing at his hair, whipping them around his head. He wanted to hear nothing but the revving of the machine and the whizzing of the wind.

But, no such luck. Not for at least another four days.

He turned around when he heard footsteps in the hall and closed his eyes, pretending to sleep. He heard Murdock enter the room. 'Please, Murdock,' he begged in thought, 'leave me alone, ok?'

"Face?"

Face didn't react.

"Face, I know you're not sleeping. So you can as well give up the act and answer me."

Face still didn't move, kept his eyes closed, breathing as slowly and deeply as he could manage.

"Face…"

'Why is he so damn persistent?!' Face cursed to himself, wishing Murdock away.

"Facey-bacey..." Murdock singsonged, knowing it was about the worst thing he could call Face.

"OK!" Face sat up and glared at his friend, not so sure suddenly, why he was his friend.

"Glad you could join me there, muchacho."

"Well, you could have taken the hint and just left me the hell alone, y'know?"

"I could have." Murdock sat down next to Face. "But I..." he sighed. There was no way he could go back to where they'd left off in the kitchen. The opportunity had come and gone. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to check if you're really ok. You looked a bit... shook up, just then."

"Shook up?!" Face was close to jumping off the bed and giving Murdock a good throttling. "That a scientific term, huh?!"

"Nah... Night, Face." Murdock left, feeling beat.

* * *

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Friday, 19** **th**

"You ok?" Hannibal gave Face a scrutinising look. The question was fair enough, because Face had shadows under his eyes. Not enough to qualify as rings, but there.

"Yeah. Didn't sleep too well. But I'm ok."

"So I noticed..." Hannibal commented on Face's first sentence. In fact he had woken up twice that night to pushes and murmurs from Face. He hadn't been able to make out what Face was dreaming about, but a gentle shake of his shoulders had settled him both times.

"Ah..." Face answered noncommittally.

Hannibal wondered for a moment if Face was able to do his job, but then berated himself. He had been in far worse shape and had still worked fine. "Coffee's in the kitchen," he said instead.

Face nodded and left for the kitchen. He would not come back until they had to leave.

Hannibal knew he should talk with Face, try to patch up whatever was wrong between them. Try to find out what was bothering Face. It couldn't possibly be the case, because it was pretty ordinary, no big deal. It was like so many cases they had had before.

He chuckled and shook his head. Who was he kidding? He knew perfectly well what the problem was, it was Tamara. Face didn't like her. There had been an awkwardness from his side from the very beginning.

At first, Hannibal hadn't thought much of it, everybody had a bad day, every now and then. But then it had gone on, and it had bugged him, that Face didn't like the woman he was romantically interested in. The hurt pride had soon been overcome by concern. And the episode two nights ago had been, straight and simple, alarming. Face practically telling him he'd better get his hands off Tamara and his head out of the clouds. Well, at least with the head-and-clouds-thing, he had been not entirely wrong, Hannibal had to admit.

"Hannibal, good morning."

"Morning, Tamara. How's the head?"

"Fine, thank you. I guess I just needed a couple hours of extra sleep. Stress always gives me a headache."

"Glad to hear that. That it's gone, that is."

Tamara didn't answer, but gave him a smile. Then she sniffed in the air. "Mhm, who made the coffee?"

"Murdock. His is not the best coffee around – you should try Face's – but it's drinkable."

"Hope you don't mind, but I feel I could use a cup."

"Who am I to keep you?" Hannibal answered with a smile and watched her leave.

With her gone, it didn't take long until Face returned.

Yep, it was definitely Tamara that threw him off. He couldn't even stand being in the same room with her.

"Lieutenant, this won't be a problem, will it?" Hannibal deliberately kept his voice calm and even. He didn't want Face to fly the handle because he thought he was being accused.

"Yeah, I'll manage." Face sipped on the cup he'd brought along. „I admit I'm not thrilled, but I haven't been thrilled with a lot of things I've done in my life, and I did them anyway. So cool it, yeah?"

Hannibal didn't answer. He didn't like the direction Face was headed, nor did he like the hard edge in his voice, or his choice of words. Too Nam. "I'd say it's time we got going," he said.

* * *

Face had the connection line between Tamara's computer and his own installed and running at a quarter to nine. He was sitting in a small, unoccupied back office, making sure he stayed out of sight. Ben had to feel absolutely secure when he showed up, to his eyes nothing must be out of the ordinary. That included the clerks not talking about Face, small as that chance might be.

Face glanced at his watch. He was in for a long two hours of nothing to do but wait. He wished he had taken Murdock's offer to prepare him a thermos of coffee. Well, nothing to do about that now. At least he had thought of bringing a newspaper.

It was 10.50, when Face put the paper aside. Ben had announced his arrival for eleven, so he should show up any minute now. Face concentrated on the computer screen in front of him. Whatever happened on Tamara's computer would show up on his screen. Until now nothing extraordinary had happened. Tamara was writing business letters, checking funds, but made no transactions. Three minutes after eleven all actions stopped and one minute later 130 000 $ were transferred.

Half an hour later Ben was gone, and Face started to "demonstrate his own impressive money-shoving-skills".

He transferred all the money, Ben had pushed around, back to specially opened accounts. From there he sent it on another tour through the world's bank-network. In the end he had the money spread all over the world on 520 different accounts. With a satisfied smile he got up and stretched, he wasn't the type to spend hours behind a desk. He left to inform Tamara.

"I'm done," he told her, entering her office, his content smile letting up only a little.

"And you're sure that Ben won't find the money?"

"I'll be happy if I find it again!" Face answered, proud of his own work. "Well, if he spent a couple of days on it, he might have a chance," he amended. "But I strongly doubt that Cortez lets him have that much time."

"This is ..." Tamara started.

"...the best thing we could do," Face finished for her. "And now, I think I earned myself a good, big plate of something Italian." He nodded his head and walked past her, leaving the bank.

* * *

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

_Thank you all for your reviews, they brighten up my day._

 _So, there are guesses... whether they are correct or not, we'll see. But first, let's take a look at how the case is going, shall we?  
_

* * *

 **Monday, 22** **nd**

Ben stormed into Tamara's office, not bothering what impression he made on the employees. But a handful of bank assistants was the least of his problems. He was in deep shit. He had received a phone call from a furious Enrique Cortez, demanding to know where the hell his fucking money had vanished. It should have appeared on Cortez' Philippine account this morning. It hadn't and that was his fault somehow.

"Ben, so soon again?" Tamara asked coldly, merely looking up from her desk.

"Tamara," Ben could hardly rein in his anger, "what the hell have you done?!"

"What do you mean, Benny?" Tamara mocked.

"You know damn well what I mean, where's the money?" Ben had reached her desk by then, and propped himself up on it, leaning forward, trying to intimidate her.

"As a matter of fact," somebody spoke up from the leather couch in the corner of the office, behind Ben, "Tamara didn't do all that much."

Ben swirled around, he hadn't noticed anyone next to Tamara in the office, due to his fury and fear. "What?!" He snapped.

"I said, that as a matter of –"

"Cut it out, Mr. 'John Smith'!" Ben turned his attention away from Tarama and fully to the white-haired man, he'd met a few days ago in Tamara's appartment. He tried to stare him down. It didn't work.

"Ok, for you I'll put it into simple terms," Smith said in a patronising voice. "She didn't do it."

"Don't tell me you did, you freak!"

"Freak?" Smith rose an eyebrow at that. "But no, I didn't do it." He paused for effect. "I had it done."

"Whatever for?!" Ben was quickly sliding from hot anger and fury to pure fear. If this money didn't show up soon, he was dead meat.

"I don't like you," Smith answered flatly. "For various reasons. One, I don't like people who launder money for drug dealers who are responsible for hundreds of dead teenagers every year. Two, I don't like the way you treat Tamara. She deserves better than that, way better. And three, I don't like your general attitude."

Ben grabbed the freak by the collar. "If you don't want to have my blood on your hands you damn well give me my money back," he threatened in a hoarse whisper.

Smith stared at Ben coldly for a moment, before he pried his fists off his lapels. "It's not your money," he said coldly. "And I'm not giving you a single cent of it, not in a million years."

Ben wracked his brain for a reply to this, but he couldn't think of anything. Those blue eyes were messing up his mind. It dawned to him that he might have underestimated that man after all. He had suspected he had a heart of steel that first time he'd seen him. But it was more like he was made of steel alone. He had just wrapped some nice paper around it to conceal it.

"Wish I were a cop now?" There was no humour in his voice.

"You... you... I'm not through with you," Ben made an empty threat before he stormed out of the office. At least the staff would think he was just jealous because of that white-haired freak. A cold comfort, however.

* * *

In the office Tamara let out a deep sigh. "God, I thought he'd pull a gun or something any minute," she ventured. She weakly leaned back in her chair.

"No, not his style. And even if..." Hannibal shrugged. "I've looked down the odd barrel in my life and I'm still breathing." He closed the distance between him and her. Put away the hard-ass soldier. "Tamara, the worst part is over."

"Phhhw, if you say so..." She didn't sound convinced.

"Tamara, all we have to do now is follow Ben, which shouldn't be too difficult. He's upset and not as attentive as he might be. Cortez will come after him sooner or later, rather sooner. That's when we'll hit."

"It sounds so easy, when you put it like that."

Hannibal chuckled. "It is that easy. BA has bugged his car, Face has bugged his wallet. All we have to do is keep an eye on the tracker."

Tamara sighed again. "I swear, when this is over, I'll cook for you. Italian, spaghetti. I'm famous for my spaghetti. They're delicious and seek their equal if I say so myself." The ghost of a smile crept into her face.

"That's better," Hannibal commented, reached out and brushed her cheek lightly. "A smile fits you much better than a frown."

* * *

Face watched from the Dodge, they'd rented for this surveillance, as Ben left the bank.

"Beep, beep," Murdock commented the work of the two trackers he held in hand. One was blinking yellow, that was Ben's car, the other was blinking red, that was his wallet. And both beeped.

"Murdock, if I want a headache, I'll let you know," Face complained.

"What? Aw, Face. You really should do something about it. The whole weekend you've been running around with that foul mood."

"Don't exaggerate." Face started up the car.

"I don't."

"Yes, you do."

Murdock bit back his response. Now was not the time for fighting. Face would only explode if he said anything. It'd been like that the whole weekend. His good mood from Friday morning hadn't lasted long, by evening he had been grumpy and gloomy again. Saturday had been a bit better. They hadn't had anything to do, so Murdock had talked Face into a trip to the zoo. It had been a fairly enjoyable day – until they returned home.

On Sunday they had set out to bug Ben, which had been a welcome distraction, but that had taken them only two hours, and afterwards Face's mood had been down again.

Well, and so it was Monday and Face's mood had worsened even more if that was possible at all. So Murdock kept his mouth shut for a change.

"Do you think he's got an actual goal, or is he just driving around?" Face asked, taking one turn after the other, always keeping two to three cars between Ben and themselves.

"Looks like he's just driving 'round."

"Well, I wish he'd stop it. It's so futile."

Murdock gave Face a sideways look. "Well, presumably he's panicking. People tend to become a bit irrational when they panic."

"Oh, is that so?" Face asked sarcastically.

"Yep, that is so."

* * *

Face was outside the hotel where Ben had taken a room for the night. Murdock had returned to Tamara's place in a taxi, and BA would come in the morning, taking over so Face could get some rest as well.

The light was still on in Ben's room. Face could see his shadow moving across the drawn curtains: Ben was pacing his room. No doubt, he was frantic. Well, justly so, he was 130 000 $ short, and the man he owed it to was not known for his patience. Benjamin Crane had every reason to be frantic.

Face scanned the parking lot and the street. Not that he believed Cortez to strike so soon or even at night, but better to be on the safe side. Nothing, all was quiet. Face returned his gaze back to the shadow moving on the curtains.

Shortly before midnight the light in the room went finally out.

* * *

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

_I'm sorry, I seem to have a knack for upsetting readers by not coming to the point. But ... well, there **is** a case, and I'm mighty proud of having been able to come up with it, so you'll have to bear with it just a bit longer._

 _Although this chapter should be more to your liking.  
_

* * *

 **Tuesday, 23** **rd**

Tamara was about to tidy up after breakfast, when Face returned from his night shift. "Can I make you something?" she asked. They hadn't had the best start, but she was determined to improve things. If she was to make something of the chemistry between her and Hannibal, she'd better get along with all of his men. She knew that that was essential.

"No, thanks." Face obviously tried to get along with her as well, if presumably for other reasons. "I'll just go and get a few hours of sleep."

"Sure," Tamara quickly agreed. "You've been up all night. Feel free to raid the fridge when you get up, though."

Face nodded, he just might.

"Good night, then..."

Tamara looked a little lost, and suddenly Face liked her a whole lot better. At least she was true at the moment. "Yeah... Have a nice day at the bank." With that Face quickly left the room, before either of them could spoil the shaky understanding they had come to.

Once in the bedroom Face enjoyed the big bed and the chance to spread out on it. He liked big beds. Not only because you could easily fit two people into them, but also because he liked to spread out in his sleep, lie diagonally, even crosswise, both arms and legs stretched out. It gave him a kinky feeling of freedom.

He didn't need long to drift off to sleep, and it didn't need long until he dreamt.

There was a park. A lovely little park. The sun was shining, it was a beautiful morning in early summer. Face was sitting on a bench, leaning back, his legs stretched out, and his arms slung around the backrest.

His clothing was off again, he noticed. This time he wore some stained, bleached pants and a t-shirt with a locomotive printed on it. Face shook his head at that, but didn't bother further. It was only a dream, after all.

"Hey, Face. Want a lick?"

Face jumped and saw Murdock standing there, an ice-cream-cone in his hand.

"What flavour is it?"

"Coconut," Murdock answered, holding out the cone for Face. Only that it wasn't a cone anymore, but a coconut.

"Just don't throw that thing at me. I swear if you do, I scream." What a lousy threat, Face thought, but hey... dream and yadda-yadda...

Murdock frowned, "Why would I throw it at you?" he asked, shrugged and walked off, happily licking on his ice-cream, that now was ice cream again.

Face frowned too as he watched him leave.

"Mind if I sit down?"

Face jerked his head around to see Tamara standing in front of him.

"No... no, of course not." He took one arm off the backrest and moved to the side a bit, making room for her.

"I kept you waiting," she said, "but I got distracted..."

"Waiting? Distracted?" Face had no idea what that woman was talking about.

"Yeah, just a little," she answered lightly, and turned away from him, greeting Hannibal. "Hannibal! So good you could come!" She stretched her arms out for him, and he bowed down to embrace her. Then he straightened up again, looking at Face in request.

Face understood and wordlessly moved to the side a bit further, making room for Hannibal as well.

And before he knew it, the bench was at an end and Face found himself sitting on the ground.

Face woke up at that point, and looked around confused. Something was wrong here... Wait a moment...

Face blushed and quickly scrambled to his feet when he realised what it was that was out of order: He had managed to fall out of bed in his sleep. Great. Just lucky nobody was there to witness that.

One look at his watch told him that he'd slept almost five hours. Would have to do, because Face didn't waste a second thought on going back to sleep. He rubbed his eyes, then headed for the kitchen, where he found Murdock.

"Muchacho, you're up early..."

"Depends on your definition of early," Face answered and opened the fridge.

"Well, in this case it would mean that you haven't had much sleep."

"Enough," Face answered rather monosyllabic.

"You should try the waffles. They're great. Tamara made them this morning. Say about that woman what you like, Face, but she knows how to make breakfast."

Face grimaced at the prospect of eating something Tamara had made. But the waffles did look good, and they smelled even better.

"There's vanilla-cream to go with them."

"She made that one as well, right?" Face asked grumpily.

"Yeah, 's a matter of fact. She's quite the cook."

Face grimaced again, but took the bowl with the vanilla-cream out of the fridge and smeared some of it on the waffles. "So, what are you doing then?" he asked Murdock in an attempt for small talk.

"Reading the paper, Face..." Murdock answered meaningfully, and lifted said paper a little for demonstration.

"And, any news?" Face refused to feel stupid.

"Well, I'd say telling news is the very purpose of a newspaper, Face..."

"Ah... yeah, suppose it is." Face took the first bite. Mhm, this waffle was indeed delicious. Face took another bite.

"Like it?"

Face nodded. But before he could take a third bite, he hesitated. "Murdock?"

"Yeah?"

"I've had a dream..."

"Yeah?" Murdock did his best to appear casual. Face being prepared to talk was a rare thing; better seize the moment and enjoy it.

"It was strange. Maybe I am jealous after all." Absently Face took another bite of his breakfast before he continued. "I was in that park, it was real nice, life was... well, it was all perfect. Then Tamara came along, asking me if she could sit down. I said yes." Face finished his waffle. "Then Hannibal came, and before I knew it, he had me off the bench and I was sitting on the ground."

"Ouch," Murdock commented.

"Yeah. - - - So, what d'you think?" Face stood up to get himself some coffee.

"Well, it pretty much sounds like you are jealous. Either of the two has something you want."

"Huh?" Face sat down, the cup halfway to his mouth.

"Well it's either Tamara having Hannibal…"

"Just what do you mean?"

"Well... just... Of course, it could also be the other way round: Hannibal having Tamara."

"Tamara? I beg you, she's... She must be close to sixty!"

"So? She's still a pretty woman. But I didn't mean her personally. Just... a lady, y'know? A chance for a relationship, that sort of thing."

Face forcefully put down his cup. "Oh please, Murdock. We both know I'm not the relationship kind of guy."

"Maybe you just don't admit it to yourself."

Face hmphed at that. "Shrink-crap," he muttered.

"Well, it could be," Murdock defended his theory. "Besides, I really think you are the relationship kind of guy."

"Oh yeah? Now I know why you're seeing the shrink."

"Sorry. You asked, I answered." Murdock said calmly.

"Yeah... ok. Topic closed. – I guess I'll get one more of those waffles..."

* * *

TBC

 _Just one more chapter and a short epilogue to go._ _We're almost there._ ;)


	9. Chapter 9

_This is by far the longest chapter of the story. But there's a lot going on. The case is being resolved and... well, stuff. The long wait is over!  
_

 _Also, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to ForeverWells_

;)

* * *

 **Thursday, 25** **th**

It was the first day they had Ben under full surveillance, not just one of the team following him, but all of them. Hannibal had guessed correctly that Cortez wouldn't come into action on the first two days. But now things were tightening up, not least thanks to the team itself. They had made finding Ben easy for Cortez by spreading his current location on the street.

It was now late afternoon, and Ben had just had a slice of pizza. He was almost at his car that he'd parked in a back alley, to keep it out of sight. He still looked nervous and ill, but the panic from Monday was gone. Murdock almost pitied him, because he didn't stand a chance.

"Hannibal, the carp's arriving," he spoke into his walkie-talkie. He had given Cortez and Ben code names. Cortez was the carp, Ben the trout.

"Ok, Murdock," Hannibal acknowledged. He was in the van with BA. Murdock on the roof of one of the surrounding buildings, Face was at the end of the alley that he blocked with the rented Dodge.

"And he's tugging along some herrings," Murdock added.

"What a surprise," Hannibal commented dryly. "Be ready."

Murdock nodded, although nobody could see it, of course. Down below him he could see Cortez' limousine and the accompanying car take the last turn.

Ben swirled around on the spot, his eyes growing wide, as he recognized the car.

The limousine halted, and Cortez himself stepped out of it. "CRANE!" he shouted. No doubt, he was fuming.

Ben simply stood there, frozen to the spot. Murdock heard him say something, but he was too high up to understand anything, and then the sound of BA's van drowned out his voice altogether.

Now Cortez and his goons, who had followed their boss out of the car, swirled around. This was not what they had had in mind.

"What the hell?!" Crane shouted, staring unbelievingly at the van that cut off the only escape route.

Hannibal stuck his rifle out of the window. "Hello, Gentlemen. I can't tell you how happy I am to meet you. Hello, Ben." Hannibal gave Ben an extra nod, as if they were old friends.

"That's the guy who got your money!" Ben shouted excitedly and pointed at Hannibal.

"I thought it was yours?" Hannibal mocked.

It was the last thing to be said before the shooting started. One of Cortez' men pulled a gun and aimed at Hannibal. Hannibal didn't hesitate to shoot back, and soon the alley was filled with the bangs and booms of different calibers.

Murdock placed his own well-aimed shots, as did Face, not giving the men in the alley any safe spot to hide.

Ben's car blew up, throwing everyone to the ground. Hannibal grabbed the opportunity, quickly jumped out of the van, and pressed the barrel of his rifle to Cortez' head.

"I think we're done now, right, Enrique?"

Cortez wearily looked up at Hannibal, seeing his defeat.

BA was in the alley not a minute later, busy tying the thugs up, before he loaded them all into the limousine.

Hannibal placed copies of Ben's transactions and how they were connected to Cortez on the passenger seat. He had a hard time hiding his satisfied smile, but it was just so good to rid the world of some more bad guys. "I love it when a plan comes together," he announced happily, pulled a cigar stump from his breast pocket and tucked it between his teeth.

Murdock was driving the limo, BA followed in the van, and Hannibal had his gun aimed steadily at the men in the back of the limo, a smile tugging at his lips. He loved it, when he could help to make this world a better place. And this time it was even better, because one of the bad guys had given Tamara such a hard time. It was good to see him suffer now.

The limousine slowly rolled to a halt. They had arrived at their destination: right in front of the entrance of a police station. Murdock and he remained in the limo, until they saw the van pull up behind them. Only then Hannibal pulled a prepared piece of paper from his pocket. He tucked it under the wiper, when he got out. "Criminals inside" it said.

All that was left to do now was to jam the electronics of the car, so the doors wouldn't open, and the horn wouldn't stop honking. The policemen would soon file out of the building, see what was wrong, then would be busy getting inside the limo. Too busy to notice the black van speeding off, let alone follow it.

* * *

Face was glad Hannibal had not made him accompany the rest of them, but somebody had to return the Dodge. Miraculously the rented car didn't have so much as a scratch. One would never suspect it had been practically in the middle of a shoot out. Face's mood immediately lightened at that. He had worried about how to explain to the rental service how it had happened that the shiny Dodge had turned into a peculiar sieve. Now he didn't have to explain anything.

And after that it would be less than an hour until they were packed up, and headed back home to LA, where he would be rid of Tamara for good. He would never have to see her again, she'd be out of his life, gone, history. Face would never have to worry about her again.

Good.

Murdock was the one who opened the door for Face.

"We ready to go?" Face asked, not even trying to hide his excitement.

"Tamara's cooked for us. A thank you dinner," Murdock answered apologetically.

"What?" Face's heart sank, but soon recovered. Ok. A thank you dinner, he could go through that. It was kind of nice, actually, and he had gotten along with her these last few days. He still didn't like her, but they'd found some sort of arrangement. He would live.

He followed Murdock to the living room that served as a dining room as well. The door opened and the heavy, spicy smell of spaghetti-sauce wafted out into the corridor.

Damn, but he knew that smell. "Murdock...?" He stopped dead in his tracks.

"What, muchacho?" Murdock had of course noticed the change in Face's voice.

"This... this smells... this smells like spaghetti..." Face said weakly.

"Yeah, it is spaghetti," Murdock confirmed. "Very good spaghetti. Tamara had insisted we wait for you, but I pinched a bit." A goofy smile stole onto his face, but it soon fell.

"No, no, you don't understand," Face said in an agitated half-whisper, "it smells like... like _spaghetti_!"

"What else?" Murdock frowned. What was he missing here?

Face's eyes grew huge. He felt like being punched again. Only this time it was a giant iron wrecking ball whumped directly into his guts. No. No, couldn't be.

But it made sense. Finally it all made sense.

But _NO_!

"Face... muchacho, what's wrong?" Murdock was at his side, concern emanating from him in thick waves.

No.

Not her.

Not him.

No.

Couldn't be, no.

NO.

"Face, come on, don't scare me..."

"No," Face squeaked, his throat tight, his heart racing, his lungs empty. No.

"Face..." Murdock reached out for him, took him by the shoulders and shook him gently.

No.

The door opened futher and there was Hannibal. "Murdock, Face..."

"No." All other words had left him. There was just this negation inside him, as he desperately tried to make it undone, forget it, bury it deep down inside himself, put it back to where it belonged.

He didn't want to know. Ignorance is bliss, they say. They're right.

"Face?" Hannibal was standing right in front of him now, displaying the same concern Murdock did.

Face pushed them aside, walked into the dining room, his eyes searching and finding Tamara instantly. "Nice life you've got yourself there," he said seethingly.

"Face!" Hannibal warned from behind him.

" _You_ shut up!" Face shouted back, though never turning to look, he kept his eyes on Tamara. Well, Tamara...

"What... do calm down," she said in a desperate attempt to smoothen things out, indicating an empty chair opposite of her.

Face walked up to the chair, considered throwing it aside for a moment, but then he took the bowl of spaghetti that was placed in the middle of the table and hurled it against the opposite wall.

"Face, that's enough!" Hannibal shouted and caught him by an arm.

Face yanked free and a second later the bowl with the sauce followed the spaghetti.

Deadly silence descended after that.

Face did have a violent streak, they all knew it, they all had seen it in Vietnam, but since then he pretty much had it under control.

"Just how could you?" Face asked into the silence, his eyes still trained on Tamara. The words startled everybody in the room, as did his voice. It held none of the violence they had expected, but thick, chocking bitterness.

"C-could?" Tamara asked timidly.

"Yeah, how could you?" Face repeated. "I've been waiting... Do you know how long a day can be?" He paused, waiting for an answer, but there was none. "I know. Cause I've been waiting and waiting, and I didn't dare to leave, and I got hungry and thirsty and tired, but I didn't dare to leave that damn bench." Face dropped down onto the chair she had offered him earlier. "I was afraid not to be there when you came back..."

"But..." Tamara looked all confused and turned to Hannibal for advice.

But Hannibal was confused himself. He looked from Tamara to Face, then to Murdock. Murdock was usually good in this field.

"Look at _me_ , dammit!" Face shouted and gave the plate in front of him a good push so it skidded across the table, toppled over the edge and shattered on the floor. "Look at _me_ , not _him_!"

"I'm... I'm..." Tamara was getting frightened. This was not supposed to happen, no. None of this was supposed to happen.

"Is it so hard to look at me? Can't you stand me?" Face asked in a pained voice.

"Face?" Murdock stepped up to his friend, touched his shoulder lightly, careful not to upset him any further. "Let us in, ok? We can't help you if you shut us out," he asked softly.

After a moment Face looked up at him. "Help?" It sounded like he had never heard the word before.

"Yes, help." Murdock bore his eyes into Face's, captured his attention. He wouldn't allow Face to erupt again and break more things.

Face grinned miserably. "There's nothing to help, Murdock. You're a good thirty years too late for that." Face turned back to Tamara. "Why did you do it?" he asked.

Tamara shook her head. She did not understand.

"Why?" Face repeated urgently.

"Why what?" Murdock asked softly at Face's ear. He hardly dared to think it, the idea coming to his mind seemed all too far fetched.

"Why did you leave me?" Face asked, coaxed by Murdock's gentle prodding.

"I..." And finally Tamara did understand. Her face fell, turned white, her eyes growing wide. "I'm sorry..." she whispered. "Oh, my god, I'm so sorry..."

"Yeah, buys me a truckload of nothing," Face spat and got up, walking away from the table, from the team, from her.

Tamara got up too, rounded the table and wrapped her arms around Face soon as she reached him, completely ignoring everybody else in the room.

She stroked Face's back, pulled him close to her and never stopped rubbing his back.

To the team's surprise Face did not resist. He let her do and after a few seconds leaned in to her. He hid his face at her neck, awkwardly putting his arms around her.

Hannibal, Murdock and BA exchanged looks.

"I'm so sorry," Tamara whispered at Face's ear. "I didn't mean to..."

"You did, though," Face insisted, his voice muffled.

"I know, I know... I'm so sorry..." Tamara continued to stroke him, and Face let it happen.

After a moment Tamara lead Face over to the couch and made him sit down next to her. Face leaned into her, and after a moment wriggled, until he could rest his head on her lap.

Tamara stroked his back and arm, combed her hand through his hair.

"Why did you?" Face asked.

"I realised what a bad mother I was," Tamara confessed softly. "You deserved a better one."

"I was fine with you."

Murdock nodded to himself. Maybe not all that far fetched. He glanced over to Hannibal who had turned white with the shock of realisation.

"No, you were not," Tamara contradicted Face, stroking his hair. "I couldn't provide you with proper clothes, I was buying make-up rather than food for you. I sent you shopping instead of going myself."

"I didn't mind that," Face threw in. "Actually, I liked that."

"But it was my job, I should have done it. I wasn't good, and when I was there, buying the ice-cream, I realised that. Me buying you ice-cream, that's what it was supposed to be. All the time, not just every once in a while, when I felt like showing off my pretty little boy to the world. Me taking care of you. All the time, that's what it was supposed to be. So I stood there with the two cones of ice-cream, one for you, one for me. I couldn't have gone back, then. I couldn't have left you."

"You sh–sh—shouldn't," Face stuttered, and Murdock realised he was crying.

"Maybe not. But I couldn't be there for you in the shape I was in. I had to straighten out myself before I could even think of raising a child. I realised that on that day. And when I had myself straightened out, too many years had passed. It would have been only cruel to take you back. They did take good care of you, though, didn't they?"

"Who?" Face asked, looking up at her.

"Your other parents," Tamara answered in a voice as if it were obvious.

"There were none," Murdock broke into the scene. He enjoyed this little payback. It was clear that Tamara wanted Face to have had a good life. Murdock crushed that hope with a pleasure.

Tamara looked at him, honestly upset at the news.

Face noticed, reached up and pulled her head down again. "Look at me, don't look at him, look at me. It doesn't matter, really. I was well taken care of. They were good there."

It wasn't lost on Murdock how Face avoided the word "orphanage". He drew in a deep breath. "No, Face, it's not ok. It does matter. She could have tried to get a grip on herself."

Face sat up and glared at Murdock. "She did," he said determinedly.

"Too late," Murdock added pointedly.

Face wanted to protest, but Tamara beat him. "He's right, Ricky."

Ricky? Now Murdock couldn't have said anything if he'd wanted to.

"But..." Face looked very lost suddenly.

"Face..." Hannibal started.

"Don't." Face glared at him.

Hannibal had never been a man to just take orders. "Sorry," he said.

"Hannibal, he's right," Murdock said before Face could speak up. "Don't. Not now."

Ok, Hannibal didn't take orders easily, but when two of his subordinates gave him a warning, he'd better listen.

Face readily dismissed him from his attention, and looked back at his mother. "What do we do now?"

"I don't know. Whatever you want."

"A bit late for that, lady," BA said in a remarkably cool voice.

Tamara turned an appropriate shade of red.

Face shot BA a glare, but then quickly looked away. BA was right. Murdock was right. Hannibal was... sorry.

Face looked at his mother. She sat on that sofa, looking good in a cool, aloof, expensive, stylish way. No wonder he hadn't recognized her right away. It was hard to bring this woman in front of him in line with the woman he knew. His mother, as he remembered her, was wearing tons of make-up and showy, eccentric clothes. She was an excellent cook, but hardly ever did cook. She was sleeping in late, wearing the same bathrobe for days sometimes, not taking even one step out of the apartment. At other times, she was going out and not coming home for a day or two, and when she was, she was bringing strangers with her.

His mother, as he knew her, was chaotic, too messed up to even cash her welfare-check in time to pay the rent.

Tamara Hurl, now, she was an altogether different story. To start with, "Tamara Hurl" was not her name. She must have changed it at one point, to make a clean, a new start. And she had everything under control. She was so much in control of things that really rich people actually let her handle their money.

"I think it's best if I leave," Face said finally, getting up.

"Ricky..." Tamara jumped up and put her hands on his shoulders, like he was about to storm out of her apartment right then and she wanted to hold him back.

"What?" Face looked at her. "You said I could do, whatever I want. This is what I want. I need some time to... I mean this... this is..."

"Oh. But... you'll call, won't you?"

"Yes." He said it with a trace of uncertainty that wasn't lost on anyone in the room.

"I suggest, we leave now," Murdock spoke up again. He felt Tamara didn't deserve a call from Face. Not within the next thirty years, anyway.

"Yes." Face nodded, straightening his jacket.

BA left the room first, then Murdock, followed by Face. Hannibal remained for another moment. "Tamara," he said, "no matter what, my loyalty lies with him."

"Her name's Samantha," Face said from the door. "Samantha something... Can you believe I forgot my own family name?"

"Bancroft," Tamara/Samantha supplied the name. "Samantha Bancroft. Hurl is my maiden name."

* * *

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

_Well, sou you've all guessed it, congratulations. ForeverWells was the first though, which is where the dedication of the last chapter came in.  
_

 _And now the last part, a little bit of conclusion._

* * *

 **EPILOGUE**

Hannibal had been postponing this meeting with Face for days now. He knew that sooner or later he would have to talk with his lieutenant about the things that had happened, but that didn't make it any easier.

He felt like the world's biggest idiot ever, falling for Face's mother like that. For the first time in his life he could imagine what effect Face must have on women. Wasn't heritage a great thing?

The phone rang. It was 7 p.m., check-in time. It was BA, just giving a quick note that things were ok with him. 7.01 Murdock called in. Everything ok, and had he talked to Face yet?

7.05 Face called.

"Everything ok, Lieutenant?"

"I'm fine."

"Face, we... we need to talk."

"I know."

"Name a time and place."

"We're gonna duel?" Face asked wryly.

"What... Face!"

"Well, you just sounded like in one of those old costume-flicks Murdock likes so much. – Sorry. Why not right now? I could come over."

Hannibal wasn't too comfortable with the location, but he felt he was not in a position to make any conditions. "Sure, come over."

Face disconnected the line, and half a minute later the doorbell rang. Hannibal opened the door with a lopsided, tired smile. "Been on the car phone?" he asked rhetorically.

"I thought you'd like that," Face replied with a small smile and went ahead into the living room.

Hannibal chuckled despite himself and followed him.

"So?" Face asked, making himself comfortable on the couch.

"Face, I do feel so stupid, I can't even start to tell you how much."

"Because of what?" Face looked him straight in the eye. "Hannibal, you didn't know. My god, not even I knew until the end. How could you have known?"

"You felt bad about it from the very start."

"So? You can't make decisions in... these matters on my gut-feelings. Who am I to interfere with your... love-life..."

"You are my second. And you have good judgement, usually."

Silence fell around them. Hannibal dropped into a chair opposite Face. Both just staring at the low table between them.

"You really liked her, didn't you?" Face's tone was one of somber sincerity.

"That doesn't matter," Hannibal answered in a matching tone.

"It does."

"No, it doesn't."

"And why not?"

"Because, more than I may like any woman, I like you. With you lies my loyalty, my responsibility. The team is my priority, everything else comes after that. And therefore it doesn't matter whether I liked her or not. Or how much, for that matter."

"You did like her." Face even smirked a bit as he said it.

"Well..."

"It's not that I'm totally against it, it just feels weird, y'know?"

"I know. It feels pretty weird from my side, too."

"So what do we do about it?"

Hannibal looked into Face's questioning eyes. It wasn't often, that Face was clueless. "Well, kid, I guess we'll take it step by step. See what comes up, deal with it."

"What are you going to do about her?"

Hannibal shrugged. "Nothing. That chapter is over."

"Because of me? You shouldn't just because of me."

Hannibal heard the words, but knew that Face was saying them only for his sake. "Listen, Face: I'm doing this because of you as well as because of me. No matter what might have been, no matter what could have been. She's your mother, and that changes things quite a bit."

"She's a woman," Face interrupted.

"She's your mother, little as she behaved like one."

"Don't accuse her!" Face sat up straight, almost jumped up.

"I'm not accusing her. But you have to admit that she wasn't exactly behaving like Mom-of-the-Year."

"Who does?!" Face snapped.

"Face! She _left_ you! She left you on a _park-bench_!"

"But she –"

"Let me finish, Lieutenant! – She left you on a park-bench, when you were not even in school. She left you helpless. Never mind she's a great woman now, who manages her own life just fine. Back then when you needed her, she was not there. And I cannot forgive her that."

"You don't have to," Face said bitterly. "She never left you alone."

"Face, call me blasphemous, but in this case you're a little like Jesus: What people do to you, they do to me."

"Ok, I call you blasphemous," Face answered, but didn't sound in any way upset about it. "But you do realise that in this picture you'd be Jesus, not me."

Hannibal shrugged. "You get the meaning."

"Yeah." Face sounded tired and weary.

"So, can we rest the case now?" Hannibal asked, a bit of hope in his voice. "I won't suggest acting like nothing ever happened, we're both smarter than that. But I honestly hope that we can get past this. Whatever you decide to do about your mother, I'm fine with it, I'm backing you up."

"Yeah?"

"Sure. I'll always be on your side."

Face got up, rubbed his hands against his pants. "Good."

"Good."

For a moment they both stood in uneasy silence.

"Nice check-in, Lieutenant, but don't bother so much in future. A simple phone-call will do."

"Understood, Sir." Face smiled briefly, then headed for the door and left without another word.

Hannibal watched him leave.

Good.

* * *

THE END


End file.
